Darkest India eBook

Representatives of nearly all the above abound in
our cities, and when both town and village destitutes
come to be reckoned together, I do not think it will
be too serious a view to take of their numbers, to
reckon the absolutely workless as numbering at least
25 or 26 millions.

CHAPTER VII.

THE HOMELESS POOR.

On this question I do not propose to say much, not
because there is not much that could be said, but
because in a climate like India it is a matter of
secondary importance as compared with food. The
people themselves are comparatively speaking indifferent
to it. The “bitter cry” of India
if put into words would consist simply of “Give
us food to fill our stomachs. This is all we
ask. As for shelter, we are content with any
hovel, or willing to betake ourselves to the open air.
But food we cannot do without.”

And yet, looked at from the point of view either of
a moralist, a sanitarian, or a humanitarian, the question
is one which calls for prompt consideration and remedial
action. For instance, according to the last Government
census, the average number of persons inhabiting each
house in the city of Bombay is no less than 28.
The average for the entire Presidency is six.
But then it must be remembered that the great majority
of the houses of the poor in the agricultural district
consist of one-roomed huts, in which the whole family
sleep together.

In the cities the overcrowding has become so excessive,
and the accomodation available for the poor is so
inadequate, costly and squalid, as to almost beggar
description. Considerations of decency, comfort
and health are largely thrown to the winds. A
single unfurnished room, merely divided from the next
one by a thin boarding, through which everything can
be heard, will command from five to thirty rupees a
month, and even more, according to its position, in
Bombay.

The typical poor man’s home in India consists
as a rule of a single-storeyed hut with walls of mud
or wattle, and roof of grass, palm-leaf, tiles, mud,
or stones, according to the nature of the country.
One or two rooms, and a small verandah, are all that
he requires for himself and his family.

In the cities the high price of the land makes even
this little impossible. Take for instance Bombay.
Here the representative of the London lodging-house
is to be found in the form of what are called “chawls,”
large buildings, several storeys high, divided up into
small rooms, which are let off to families, at a rental
of from three rupees a month and upwards. Very
commonly the same room serves for living, sleeping,
cooking, and eating. There being as a rule no
cooking place, the cheap earthen “choola”
serves as a sufficient make-shift, and the smoke finds
its exit through the door or window best it can.